


Phantom Faces

by tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Sasori uses profanities, tw PTSD mention, tw like there are off screen death sort of implied??, tw maybe some angst or sadness??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: Sasori isn’t someone known to handle grief well. Yashamaru checks up on him.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Phantom Faces

“They told me I’d find you here.”

Yashamaru walked through the door, knowing it was useless to wait for an invitation. They haven’t heard from Sasori since his team went on _that_ mission. No one had seen him come home.

“It’s been a week,” Yashamaru pointed out, taking a seat in one of the vacant workstations.

“Yuri sits there.”

Yasha did not move; did not say anything.

“You shouldn’t be in his seat.”

Slowly, he stood up. The sound of Sasori’s chisel clawing against wood echoed in the empty room.

“Karura is worried,” he started again.

Silence. The clack of instruments.

“She heard this puppet corps was still producing the same number of puppets since before--”

“That was the contract we signed.”

“I’m fairly sure that doesn’t apply anymore.” Yashamaru shuffled through his pockets for— “This is a letter from the Kazekage. I forwarded it myself after I heard.” He moved towards Sasori to show him the letter when he caught sight of a familiar face.

“I already got the Sandaime’s message. I don’t need leave.”

Yashamaru extended a hand, about to touch Sasori’s shoulder—— it hovered just above before he drew it back. “Come home, Sasori. Karura and I can stay over if it’s——“

“Yashamaru, I prefer not to be lectured,” Sasori turned around. Yuri’s image carved into wood stared back at Yasha. “If you’re not going to say anything useful, leave. I have 8 more orders to finish.”

“But it’s almost sunset.”

“Walk out the door faster, then.”

Yashamaru contemplated dragging Sasori out— for his own safety and sanity. Then he remembered he still had a sister to get back to, and contemplated it again.

“Karura is better than this than I am,” Yashamaru pulled out a chair and set himself beside Sasori.

“Damn it, I told you stop sitting in----“

“Have I told you about the medical tent at the 4th Southern front?” Yashamaru leaned back, just far enough to cover the length of an arm and a poisoned senbon. “I was stationed there for a few. Me and a bunch of other fresh greens. We had maybe one senior medic with us there, since it technically wasn’t a particularly large fort.”

Sasori said nothing, and continued chipping at puppet-Yuri’s cheekbones. 

“I spent the whole day in the tent with minor and major surgeries. I think I’m getting pretty okay at putting together the blood vessels right. I mean— we know better how to do muscle repair; the vessels find their way because they’re small enough. But, whew, that day was… it was hard. I told myself I’d go out for a few to get a breath of fresh air.

“Then I passed by someone too mangled to be recognised, being brought into the tent. I heard something… like crumpling paper.”

The sound of steel on wood stopped. Sasori put down the chisel. “Everyone?” his voice was almost too small to be heard.

“Enough,” Yasha sighed and adjusted himself in his seat. “I can’t remember too much— but I’ll always remember that sound.” Suddenly, it’s too hot in the workshop, and his throat was as dry as the Southern desert. An explosion still ringing in his ears. 

Three seconds seemed to stretch into minutes and hours before Yashamaru found his voice again.

“Karura told me that, one day—— one day, I’ll be in the middle of going about my day. I’ll be making dinner, heating up the curry. One day, I’ll realize that I haven’t thought about it— not once the whole day.”

“How long?” Yashamaru looked up to meet Sasori’s eyes. “How long until that day?”

A long silence fell upon them, until Yasha finally turned away. “I’m still waiting for it.”

He heard the chisel hitting the wall and ricocheting to the other end of the room.

“I mean, it’s better than before,” Yashamaru fiddled with the paper before putting it back into his pocket. “Functioning, at the very least. They put me on clinic for a three weeks—— likely, a few more. I’ve been talking to someone. If you want—-“

Yashamaru’s back hit the wall so fast, it felt like an explosion. Fists gripping his shirt by the collar. His hand, chakra charge, shot up---

His hand was pinned over his chest. Sasori’s hand rigid over it— and eyes gripped his even harder through the pain of foreign chakra surging through Sasori’s nerves.

“Don’t. You. Dare. I don’t need a break. I don’t need leave. I don’t need to talk to someone and share my feelings like some first year academy student before sing-along.”

A light green glow illuminated the space between them.

“You need to eat, Sasori. And sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he loosened his grip on Yasha’s collar. 

“How about coming over?” Sasori let his gaze turn softer. “We’ll be just in time for dinner.” Let Yashamaru take the damaged nerves until the pinpricks left his hand and he could move it again. “I feel like, if you asked nicely, Karura might make that key-lime pie you like.”

A beat.

“Why?” Sasori turned around and picked up the puppet head he was working on. “Why don’t you just leave me alone here? We’re all going to die for this shithole sooner or later anyway. Did you have plans to haunt me too?” He tossed the head over to Yasha, and then slumped back down on his chair.

Yashamaru turned poor Yuri to face him. He hadn’t met the other puppeteers, but it felt like the others were staring at him from the newly created set of puppets. _Why, Yashamaru?_

“Some questions don’t have answers,” Yasha said. “You’ll never be satisfied with whatever answer I give. You’ll find a way to disassemble it, and build it again to confirm your worst truths.” He laid Yuri down on his table. “I do that a lot, Karura tells me.

“Some days, it’s better to just do one thing and then another. Maybe we can start with dinner? You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”

Silence.

Seconds felt like minutes, and then hours.

Neither moved.

Until Sasori sighed. “You’re sure she’ll make pie?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this is an unnecessary addition to this piece. But just to be clear, those aren't meant to be human puppets. It's more grief being unconsciously (ish, ish, there's some self-awareness after a while) carved into Sasori's work and the faces that only Sasori can feel staring at him.


End file.
